All About The Girl
by Danni Evans
Summary: Movieverse, possible comicverse elements. Ever wonder what's going on in MJ's head throughout the movie? My take on her thoughts, feelings and life in general. Novelization of the movies from MJ's POV.
1. Prologue

Okay, so this is my attempt at a novelization-like thing of the movies, only from MJ's point of view. She seems to have a lot more going on in her head than is directly revealed. So a lot of the dialogue and action is directly from the movies, which aren't mine...so don't get mad at me when they don't make sense! I'm playing off ideas from the movie, and probably some from Peter David's novelizations thereof, although these are likely unintentional, as I have not read them in quite some time, being unable to find my copies of them...I have tried to make the structures parallel, though--you'll get what I mean once you read the first bit of the prologue, and compare it to the first few lines of the movie.

Anyway, this is my first fanfic, so please bear with me as I figure out the ropes. Reviews are incredibly useful things--if you don't like something, tell me!

I don't own Spider-Man, any of the characters or situations you recognize from the movies and/or comics and/or novels, and I may subconsciously be using bits of ideas from other fanfic authors--not on purpose, so please don't get mad, it is a compliment.

xxxxx

Who am I? Are you sure you want to know? My story is not one of fairy tale castles and charming princes; no happily-ever-afters, or even happily-for-a-whiles. But it's a story worth telling.

And like any story worth telling, this one is all about love.

I'm in love with Spider-Man.

And before you laugh, or tell me it's just a silly schoolgirl crush, that every woman in New York must feel the same way, let me assure you…

Never mind, you probably wouldn't believe me anyway.

Let me introduce myself. My name is Mary Jane Watson, and I love Spider-Man.

No, really.

xxxxx

It all started when I moved to New York with my family. I was six years old, and we had just bought this adorable house in an adorable neighbourhood, next door to a sweet elderly couple, May and Ben Parker, and their adorable nephew Peter. He was the cutest thing I had ever seen, always very sweet and friendly—a bit shy, though. Brilliant as they come. He always had the top marks at school, and the fewest friends. I ran in different circles—even in first grade, I was one of the most popular girls in school. I never spent any time with Peter in school; I only ever saw him at home, when he would sit outside, on his back porch, overhearing my family's shouting matches, always there when I ran outside to get away from the noise. He was a great listener as a kid…well, he hardly said a word to me, so what choice did he have?

My high school boyfriend and his gang tortured the poor guy. They just wouldn't leave Pete alone, and I found myself almost daily intervening on his behalf (although I never figured out why I felt the need to do so until much later). Sometimes it got so bad that I thought it must have been him that triggered the phrase 'for Pete's sake.'

Although my own life was far from ideal. At school, sure, I had everything a girl could want: friends, admirers, and suitors galore. But at home—well, that was different. My father did enjoy drinking, and when he overdid it—which was often—he would start putting my mom and me down, telling us how worthless and lazy we were. I still half-believe him, when I hear his voice in my memory, condemning my futility. Peter was always there, though, silent but comforting all the same, whenever I needed to lay it all down on someone.

I'm probably boring you; I'd better get on with this story. Let me warn you, though…it doesn't have a happy ending. Actually, it doesn't have an ending at all, because I'm still living it. I can't tell it to you, because it hasn't happened yet.

But what's happened so far is worth hearing about. Let me begin at the beginning, where everything really started to happen.


	2. Camera and Other Flashes

It was an average day in our senior year. Flash Thompson—my boyfriend—and I were on the bus, arm in arm; his friends chatting with him, and me sitting there and looking pretty; goofballs throwing balls of crumpled paper around; that overweight kid eating another donut; Flash torturing innocent geeks; and Peter Parker, having missed the bus, running as fast as his poor scrawny legs can carry him, trying to get the bus driver to stop for him.

Here we go again.

"Stop the bus!" Seems like it's up to me to rescue Pete—again. "He's been chasing us since Woodhaven Boulevard!"

The bus driver sighed at the conclusion of his daily amusement, but complied. Peter climbed on, made his regular excuses, but the driver just waved him away, and he proceeded to try to find a seat on the bus amidst flying paper balls, mostly aimed at him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Flash nod at one of his buddies, who winked back with a smirk.

Uh-oh. What have they got planned this time?

Peter slowly made his way through the bus, being rejected as a seatmate by even the dorkiest losers. I don't even get it—he's not that bad-looking, and he's really nice, if a bit shy. You'd think he'd have at least a few friends.

He turned to look at me, like he usually does, with that puppy-dog look: lost and confused. I felt so sorry for him, and gave him an encouraging smile.

THUD!

It always amazes me how many truly cruel people there are in this world…and how many of them ride that bus.

Flash's friend just tripped poor Peter Parker.

I turned to glare at him, then turned to Flash. "Don't you have anything better to do than pick on people? Honestly, you are so immature." I shrugged his arm off my shoulder.

"Hey, baby, you know you like it. It comes with being popular—you get to be king."

I just rolled my eyes and faced rigidly forwards for the rest of the bus ride.

xxxxx

That day was the day we had a field trip to the Columbia University Science Department. They had this fantastic spider experiment, involving genetic enhancement and recombination. Spiders are really remarkable creatures, you know? Some can jump enormous distances (for their size), and some can weave webs and lines of amazing strength and elasticity. Another species has what the tour guide called a 'spider sense,' which I laughed at. Supposedly it could sense things almost before they happened. Precognition of danger? It was a ridiculous idea. At least, I thought so at the time.

The cool part of the experiment was that they combined these spiders genetically, to incorporate all of these abilities. They had created fifteen of what they called 'super-spiders.' Fascinating.

Sorry, I tend to lose track of my train of thought when I start thinking about that again. I was really taken by the whole idea; funny, since I had never really liked science before. I always was more into literature and the arts.

As we entered the room, Flash again tried to put his arm around me, but I shrugged it off, seeing Peter's eyes on me. Funny how he always seemed to instill a sense of self-respect into me, and made me want to act like who I really was, not who popularity demanded I be. I edged further away from Flash, and slowly approached the glass-enclosed super-spiders, enthralled.

Harry joined me. I always did like him; he wasn't one of the popular crowd, but he got by. Certainly stuck up for himself more than Peter ever did. And he wasn't bad-looking, either.

"Disgusting!" I said in fascination. Those spiders were such a contradiction to my mind—creepy crawlies that had such remarkable abilities.

"Yeah, hateful little things," came Harry's voice beside me.

I wrinkled my nose. "I love 'em." _I'm never going to step on a spider again._

"Yeah, me too," Harry replied quickly. Too quickly. I looked over at him, eyebrow raised. _Right._ Even the biggest idiot could see he was just saying it to agree with me. _I'm not stupid, Harry._

"You know," he said, "spiders can change their colour, to blend in with their environment."

"Really," I replied, surprised at his unexpected knowledge.

"Yeah, it's a defense mechanism," he continued.

"Cool." _I'm pretty sure I've never heard Harry use the word 'mechanism' in a sentence. I'll bet he got that from Peter._

It was this point at which the tour guide introduced the fifteen genetically designed 'super-spiders' I had been so entranced by.

_Wait a second. _"There's fourteen."

The guide looked at me in concern. "I beg your pardon?"

"One's missing," I told her, worried.

She looked only mildly concerned. "I guess the researchers are working on that one."

I shrugged off my worry and returned my attention to the spiders.

Harry spoke again. "Do you know this is _the_ largest electron microscope on the eastern seaboard?"

Now I knew Harry wouldn't know a thing like that. On top of it, I had heard Peter telling him that on our way in. Although Harry got it wrong: Pete hadn't said it was the largest, only the most advanced. Size is not the most important thing. Even so, I was flattered by Harry's attempts to impress me.

Our science teacher came and pulled Harry off to the side to "talk to" him about not listening to the tour guide. I squirmed in embarrassment; the conversation had not been one-sided. Half of it was my fault.

Once again, I returned my attention to the spiders. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peter slowly approaching. "Hey," he said.

Hoping Flash was nowhere near, I turned and smiled.

"Can I take your picture?" he asked, hesitantly. "I-I need one with a student in it."

Smiling at him, flattered, I replied, "Sure, yeah. Where do you want me? Over here?"

"Yeah, yeah, that's great."

I stood beside the super-spiders. "Don't make me look ugly," I teased, smoothing my hair.

Peter smiled and shrugged in that boyish, endearing way he has. "That's impossible." _Aww…he's so sweet. Too bad more high-school guys haven't developed that._ I thought of Flash and his overbearing swagger, rolling my eyes before returning my attention to Peter.

I posed a few times for his pictures, but wasn't really sure what to do in front of the camera. I'm sure I looked ridiculous. (Good thing I'm better with cameras now.) He probably still has those pictures, and is someday going to pull them out and embarrass me. Knowing Pete, though, he thinks they're great.

I heard Ashley's voice from across the room. "MJ! Let's go!" As I left to rejoin my friends, I barely heard Peter's 'Thanks.'

I missed what happened next. All I saw was Peter, ashen, for a moment before we were all called to leave. He was staring at his hand. I later found out he had been bitten by the fifteenth spider. And now it sounds like I'm spoiling the story for you; but it's pretty important. Peter left soon after, looking very pale and shaky. As I passed his house on the way to mine, I overheard them talking.

"Uh, I don't feel well…I'm gonna go to sleep." That was Peter's voice.

"You won't have a bite?" That was his Aunt May, typically thinking of feeding him.

"No thanks. Had a bite." Typical sarcasm from Peter.

"Well…did—did you get some pictures, Peter?" Uncle Ben asked him.

I heard their stairs creak as Peter replied, "I gotta crash…"

How I wished I could have had a family like Peter's. Yeah, poor kid for having lost his parents, but his aunt and uncle were the sweetest people I knew. My family, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely.

"Mary-Jane Watson!" came my drunken father's angry voice.

_Oh, no. Here we go again, _I thought, with the slightest trace of fear.

xxxxx

"…no matter what your mother says, it's up to me! You're trash! You're always gonna be trash, just like her!"

I fairly ran from my father's attacking voice. "I have to go to school," I choked through my tears. I saw Peter just outside his house, seeing and hearing it all. I wish he didn't have to know, but he does live next door, and we aren't exactly a quiet, peaceful family. I just wish my father wouldn't get drunk all hours of the day…

I hunched in on myself as I walked, crossing my arms in front of me, as if they could protect me. I walked fast enough that Peter wouldn't catch up with me. I knew he'd have something heartbreakingly sweet to say, and I don't think I could have stood it. I probably would have broken out crying right there as it was, were it not for Ashley and Miranda driving up in Miranda's car. It was time to put on my mask.

People sometimes ask me when I started seriously acting. I mean, I've been in all the school plays, but there comes a point when it becomes important, becomes more than just a pastime. I usually say it was right after high school, when I dreamt of taking Broadway by storm. But really, it was way before that. Acting became a lifestyle for me, in my freshman year. I figured if I couldn't be happy at home, at least I could pretend everything was perfect at school. I created a good life for myself in public; I had cool friends, popular boyfriends, and anything a girl could think to want.

I hated it.

People can be cruel, but none more so than people who think they have power over others. The in-crowd is not the place to be if you mind stepping on other people in order to rise to the top. But it kept me safe—safe from further abuse. I had to endure it at home from my father; I don't think I could have stood it if I had to put up with it at school too. Poor Peter, though…he had the worst of it from my crowd. I tried to stop it when I could—goodness knows the kid had enough to worry about without being constantly picked on—but I made sure never to undermine my own popularity by helping him. Call it immaturity, call it self-preservation, or just plain selfishness…but he put me to shame for that later on. Without meaning to, of course—he doesn't have a mean bone in his body. But he helps others, without a thought about the cost to himself. And then there was me—Mary Jane Watson, pretty and popular—who couldn't stick up for some poor kid, for fear of losing her so-called friends.


	3. Day of Flying Lunches

I always hated the school cafeteria. It was a breeding ground for mischief and cruel misbehaviour. There was always someone from the in-crowd picking on some poor soul just trying to mind their own business…and today was no different.

Doris Schlumberger was today's target of choice. As she walked by Flash's table, he reached over and agilely snatched her lunch tray from her hands, knocking her books on the floor in the process. "Hey, what do you need food for?" he asked mockingly. I heard him all the way from the serving line. "You just read books all the time. It's not like you need energy for it." Flash was always bragging about his football exploits to his friends, and stealing bookworms' food, claiming he needed it more than they did. I thought it was ridiculous, but his friends found it hilariously amusing.

I rolled my eyes as he continued his bullying. I knew I had to put up with it, for the sake of my reputation, but I hated the way he treated people. Even me, sometimes—he acted like I was some possession of his, to flaunt like he did the letter on his jacket.

I strode across the cafeteria towards his table, looking like I didn't have a care in the world. This is my mask, the one I wear for my own protection, so people can't see the hurt and vulnerability inside. If they knew…well, then they would have the power to hurt me.

I passed Peter's table, painfully aware of his gaze on my approach. I always knew he had a little crush on me, but I had hoped he would grow out of it. _Not my type,_ I kept telling myself. Scrawny, nerdy and timid…doesn't exactly sound like anyone's ideal guy, does he?

Well, something has definitely changed.

The nature of the cafeteria is such that there is always some kind of mess. Today, it happened to be a pool of spilled juice, right past Peter's table. Distracted as I was, I didn't notice it, but apparently Peter did…just as I stepped in it and slipped, he was already behind me, somehow managed to catch me with muscles I didn't know he had, and miraculously caught every item of my lunch on the tray that had gone flying from my hands a moment earlier.

Breathless and astonished, I looked at Peter. "Wow…great reflexes!" I looked down awkwardly. "Thanks."

"No problem," he replied, almost shyly, but less timid than I remember him ever being.

I looked up at him again (since when did he get to be taller than me?) and noticed that something else was different… "Hey, you have blue eyes…I didn't notice without your glasses…" _Oh, great, now I can't even string together a coherent sentence._ "You just get contacts?"

Peter looked tongue-tied, and smiled goofily. _Now that's the Peter I remember._ I chuckled awkwardly, raising an eybrow. "Well…see ya." As I walked away, again holding my lunch tray, I looked around nervously, hoping nobody had noticed the scene we had made. _Great. Just what I needed—public humiliation. Oh well, at least I didn't just fall down when I slipped. That would have been even worse. Oh, Parker, why do you have to be so damn _nerdy

I finally made it to where Flash and his buddies were sitting, and found a seat across from him. Behind Flash was Peter's otherwise empty table. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. But what could I do? I'm just MJ, the girl who needs to stay popular.

I threw myself into the frivolity of 'cool' conversation for the next several minutes as I tried to eat. But there was another disturbance in the usual pandemonium of the cafeteria. And, though I know it shouldn't have been funny, given that he's my boyfriend and all, I had a tough time hiding my laughter when Flash got nailed with somebody's lunch tray. With the lunch still on it.

For the second time that day, someone's lunch had flown up in the air, but this time, instead of being smoothly caught, it had made a mess of Flash's back. He turned, growling, and the first person he saw was…

"_Parker!_"

He got up, fists clenched, and stalked after poor, innocent Peter. I didn't think he had the guts to throw his lunch at Flash Thompson, captain of the football team, coolest guy in school. The day before, I never would have believed it.

But now I wasn't so sure.

Peter was walking, _purposefully,_ out of the cafeteria. I had never seen him so confident in my life. I shook myself back to reality. Then I saw the tray sliding along the floor after him, trailing from some weird stringy substance. My eyes widened. _Did he really?_ I didn't manage to stifle my giggles when the tray, still pulled by the string, jumped up against the closed cafeteria doors.

Then I saw the expression on Flash's face, and feared for Peter's life.

"Flash, please!" I yelled, but he didn't hear me.

I ran after him through the halls, catching up to him just in time to see Peter dodge a fist (what? That should have clocked him!) and Flash start his verbal abuse.

"Think you're pretty funny, don't you, freak?"

"Flash!" I called frantically. "It was just an accident!" But I myself wasn't so sure of that anymore.

"My fist breaking your teeth—" he spat at Peter— "that's the accident."

"Come on, Flash. Stop," I coaxed, trying to keep my demeanor calm.

"I don't wanna fight you, Flash," Peter said. I couldn't tell if he was nervous or just really calmly quiet. I was surprised he hadn't fainted.

By now I'm sure you've noticed I had a very low opinion of Peter, aside from his innate niceness.

"I wouldn't wanna fight me neither," Flash threatened. I'm sure he thought it was terribly clever as a comeback, but his terrible English always did bother me.

Flash began bouncing up and down, fists raised, like a boxer. I flinched every time he punched Peter, sure Peter wasn't going to last long in this fight. Every blow Flash gave was powerful enough to knock Peter into oblivion.

Well, they would have been, had any of them connected.

Peter dodged every single one of Flash's punches, weaving from side to side with incredible ease and agility. _Where on earth did he learn to do that?_

Suddenly, Flash rushed him, fist outstretched, and I was sure he was a goner. But next thing I knew, Peter was bent over backwards, looking straight up at me, and Flash was colliding with some of the guys in the crowd next to me.

Just then, Harry ran up behind me. "Harry!" I exclaimed. I knew this was not going to end well for Peter. He just didn't have what it took to fight a guy like Flash…especially not when Flash had backup. "Help him!"

Flash's friend Todd, the one who had tripped Peter on the bus the day before, rushed Peter from behind as if to tackle him. And then came the most astonishing thing of all—Peter, little scrawny Peter, without even seeing Todd's attack, jumped six feet in the air and flipped around in the air at least twice (I lost count) as Todd ran straight through under him.

Harry was as shocked as I was. "Which one?" he asked me.

Todd looked at Flash, nervously I thought, and said, "He's all yours, man." Flash shoved him away in disgust, and proceeded to launch a furious attack of flying fists on Peter, unleashing every bit of his fury and athleticism, but somehow, Peter was able to avoid every single one, eventually grabbing Flash's wrist and holding it so tightly that Flash groaned in agony. _Peter, what are you doing?_ I wondered.

Next thing I knew, Flash was flying down the hallway, coming to rest next to one of the dorks he picks on daily, who proceeded to dump his own lunch tray on Flash. Laughter erupted around me, but I felt like time was frozen. I stared at Peter with concern and just the slightest fear, watching as he stared at his outstretched fist as if he didn't recognize his own hand. I didn't hear or see anything but Peter, as his expression became unreadable and he fled from the scene. I looked after him, worried, and scared both of him and for him.

xxxxx

That night, my parents had the worst fight I think I've ever heard. My father was calling both Mom and I trash, and—well, I'd rather not relive the details. But usually, the fights consisted of my drunken father slamming my mom, a perpetual victim, both verbally and, when things got really bad, physically. I managed to escape out the back door, hoping to wait it out in the yard, or better yet, just get out of the neighbourhood.

"Get in here, little girl, and do the dishes, NOW!"

"YOU can do the dishes!" I screamed back at my father as I slammed the door.

_Oh, damn._

Peter was outside, taking out the garbage. _He must have heard everything._

"Were you listening to that?" I asked angrily.

"No…well…I heard, but I was just…taking out the trash." He looked sorry to have been seen, but even more sorry that I had to put up with that kind of crap.

"I guess you can always hear us," I replied, fighting back tears.

He hesitated. "Everybody shouts," he said, obviously trying to make me feel better.

"Your aunt and uncle don't." _Why is it that every time my life falls apart, there's Peter, no matter what he's gone through that day, trying to comfort me? And why is it that I'm so concerned about disturbing the neighbours at a time like this?_

Peter shrugged. "They can scream pretty good sometimes." I knew that he knew that my family's fights were far from normal or healthy, but it still made me feel better, somehow, that he was trying to be nice about it. I think this was the first real, comfortable conversation I've ever had with Peter Parker, and I was surprised how…_normal_ it seemed.

"Listen, MJ, about today—at school with Flash—"

"You really freaked us out." _Well, you showed up the cool kids, impressed the dorks, astonished Harry…I think I'm the only one who was actually freaked out…_

"I'm sorry," Peter said, actually looking contrite. "Is he okay?"

"He's just happy you didn't give him a black eye for graduation," I replied. _He's sure got his priorities straight._

I strolled towards the fence. Something about seeing Peter standing calmly on the other side of that fence prompted me to ask, "So where are you going after you graduate?"

"I, uh…I wanna move into the city. And hopefully get a job as a photographer—work my way through college." He seemed more interested in my plans than in his own. "What about you?" he asked.

"I'm headed for the city too," I replied. "Can't wait to get outta here. I wanna…" I paused.

"What?" he asked, curious.

I shook my head. _No, it's silly._

"Come on…try me."

"I wanna…act. On stage." I looked up nervously, unsure what he might think of a little girl's silly dreams.

"Really?" he asked, and I nodded. "Well, that's perfect! You were awesome in all the school plays."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He smiled. "I cried like a baby when you played Cinderella."

I almost laughed before I noted his seriousness. "Peter, that was first grade." Trust Pete to be both touching and ridiculous at the same time.

"Well, even so." For once, his gaze was steady on me, his shyness forgotten in his attempts to encourage me. "Sometimes…you know people. You can just…see what's coming."

I couldn't help my curiosity. "What do you see coming for you?"

He paused as if troubled. "I don't know. Whatever it is, it's something I've never felt before."

"And…" I was almost afraid to ask. "What for me?"

"For you?" His expression softened. "You're gonna light up Broadway."

I blushed, hoping he couldn't see it in the darkness. I looked up at him, again noticing his height. "You know, you're taller than you look."

"I hunch."

"Don't."

The moment was broken by a loud engine on the street out front. Flash's brash voice invaded our connection.

"Hey MJ. Come take a ride in my new birthday present. Come on!"

I looked back at Peter, finding it hard to tear myself away. "I gotta go."

"Bye," he replied, gazing after me.

I easily assumed my carefree persona. After years of practice, it gets to be habit.

"Oh my gosh, it's gorgeous!" It was obvious Flash was proud of his new toy. "Look at it!"

"Yeah, pretty tight, huh?" He grinned. "Wait'll you hear the sound system. Hey—don't scratch the leather." I rolled my eyes at his distrust, but played along.

"Wooohoo!"


	4. LifeChanging Events

I will never forget the day Peter's Uncle Ben died. I remember seeing something about a carjacking on the late night news, and dismissed it with the usual indifference one normally uses with a news story. People get shot, it happens, it sucks but what can you really do about it? But when I heard the name, well…I just about cried. Why such a peaceful man should die in such a violent manner, I will never understand. Ben Parker was the nicest man I ever knew. Kind, strong, moral, responsible. Brave. He took a stand for things he believed in. Too bad Peter couldn't have picked up on more of those qualities…

xxxxx

A girl's graduation is supposed to be the best day of her life, next to her wedding day (I managed to mess that one up, too, but you'll hear about that later). Peter got the science award—no one was surprised about that—Harry actually managed to graduate—which impressed his genius father—and I broke up with Flash Thompson.

"Listen, Flash. I know it's been fun and all, but I can't stay in this relationship. I don't want to be with you anymore."

He looked angry at being the dumped and not the dumper, but didn't look overly disappointed at losing me. "Fine," he growled.

"Here's your ring." I slammed his class ring into his hand; the ring I had been wearing on my pinky for the last seven months, the one that accused me of deception every time I saw it. _This isn't _me._ For the last four years, I've been fooling everyone else, I've been fooling myself. At least Peter had the guts to be himself. I've been playacting my entire life. And all this time, I haven't really been happy. I've been acting happy. It's time for that to change._

"You know what? Whatever," came Flash's eloquent reply. "Your loss." Modest, too.

He stalked off, or swaggered, or however you'd like to describe that self-satisfied way jocks walk. For the first time, I realized how much I hated it.

Even so, I felt almost lost without that ring on my finger. It had been my security blanket, protecting me from crossing that fine line between cool and picked-on. Now that high school was over, though…it was time to grow up. Make my own life, my own real personality. My own character: morals, bravery, responsibility. Just like Ben Parker.

xxxxx

Harry Osborn was definitely a better choice than Flash Thompson. Apparently, he had noticed our little altercation after commencement, and come over to comfort me. Not that I actually needed comforting, but I appreciated the gesture all the same. He was a lot more friendly than I had expected, too—I had expected more of a preppy, 'my father owns half this city' sort of attitude, but he's really quite down-to-earth. Probably comes of having Peter as a best friend…somebody's got to keep Pete's feet on the ground, and his head out of the clouds. Wow, that sounds funny, knowing what I know now.

Anyway, Harry got around to asking about my plans for my life, now that high school was over. I didn't quite know how to tell him about my burning desire to act—funny how I could tell Peter, whose admiration made me squirm, but not Harry, who actually seemed quite sweet—but I mentioned some kind of post-secondary education, I wasn't quite sure yet. I had been hoping to get into acting school, but I had to earn some money first. I wasn't about to let myself get indebted to my father for a thing like this.

When I told Harry I'd be moving to Manhattan, he looked surprised. "Well, me too! We should get together sometime—you know, housewarming and all that. Explore the city."

I smiled, flattered that he would want to spend that kind of time with me. "Sure," I replied, almost hesitantly, "I'd enjoy that."

xxxxx

Life after high school was definitely not going my way. Instead of getting lots of acting jobs, I was working at a greasy spoon diner in Manhattan. Guys were always following me from the diner, hoping to get lucky, I guess. As if a waitress is presumed to be so desperate for anything…it makes me sick. Alyssa, one of the girls about my age at the Moondance diner, actually took one of them up on his offer…says she hasn't regretted anything that much in her life.

So I'm sure you won't be surprised at this.

"Buzz off!" I told the guy hurrying across the street after me. _I've had enough of these guys try to follow me home, I am not going to put up with it any longer._

"MJ! It's me—Peter."

I turned. "Hi!" I hadn't seen him in months…he looked amazing. Minus the glasses, plus a nice jacket and a good haircut…and healthier than I'd ever seen him. "What are you doing around here?"

He shrugged nonchalantly (I love that word—so descriptive!) "I'm, uh…I'm begging for a job." He looked far more interested in my life. "How 'bout you?"

_Oh, no._ He had been so supportive of my dreams of acting…I knew he'd be so happy for me if I was making them come true. I couldn't bear to disappoint him. So, I told him I was headed to an audition. _Well, I'm certainly acting right now._

"An audition?" I had been right—he sounded so proud of me. "So you're acting now?"

"Yeah," I continued. "I work steady…in fact, I just got off a job." _Well, technically that's true, but it wasn't an acting job…_I was so mad at myself. I had promised myself I was going to start really being _me_, no more games or playacting. _I've certainly gotten off to a wonderful start._

"That's great, MJ! You're doing it!" My heart just about broke at his encouraging voice. "You're living your dream!" He sounded faintly wistful, but only because I know him so well.

Then it all hit the fan. The voice of my obnoxious, overbearing boss cut through. "Hey, Glamour Girl!" he yelled.

I did my best to ignore him, hoping he would just go away. _I don't need Peter seeing this part of my life. He was so happy for me…_

But Enrique doesn't know when to quit. "Your drawer was short six dollars. Next time that happens, I'm gonna take it outta your cheque." Peter looked fairly uncomfortable by this point, and I could feel total humiliation creeping up my face. "Excuse me, Miss Watson! I'm talkin' to you! Hey!"

_Busted._ I knew it was too late by that point to pretend any longer. "Yes, Enrique, okay? I get you."

"It better not happen no more, d'you hear me? Don't roll your eyes at me!" And with that, he finally left.

I turned back to Peter, shamefaced, unable to meet his eyes. When I finally looked up, he looked more embarrassed than I did. I slowly opened my long coat to reveal the ugly orange waitress uniform I was wearing. "Some dream, huh?" I said sadly.

Peter, kind as ever, replied, "That's nothing to be embarrassed about."

_Yeah, right. Most people wouldn't think so._ "Don't tell Harry."

"Don't tell Harry?" He looked vaguely confused.

Now I was confused. "Aren't you guys living together? We're going out—didn't he tell you?"

"Oh, yeah. Right," he replied casually, but I knew it was news to him. He looked…disappointed?

"I-I think he'd hate the idea of my waiting tables. He'd think it was low, or something." Amazing, how important Harry's opinions were. Even though he wasn't daddy's little rich kid, he still had standards, I knew. And I was afraid I didn't measure up. All my life, all I wanted was to measure up—and had to pretend in order to do it. So much for my fresh start, huh?

"It's not low." Peter couldn't help but be comforting; it's all he's ever done in his whole life where I'm concerned. Pathetic, aren't I? "You have a job," he said, making it sound like the most important accomplishment anyone could have. "Y'know, Harry—he doesn't like to live on the little place I like to call Earth."

I laughed at his characteristic dry sarcasm, and the truth held within it. "No, I guess not." What a sweet, caring guy. In all of two minutes, he has managed to cheer me up, affirm my position in life, and give me hope for my future. "Thanks, Pete." It seemed inadequate, somehow, but it would have to do. It was all I had to give him. _Gosh, I've missed his encouragement. Everything, really. He's quite endearing, once you get to know him._ "We should catch up sometime."

As I walked past him on my way home, he replied, "Let's get some lunch some evening." I raised an eyebrow. _Now that's the tongue-tied Peter I remember._ "I'll…I'll come by and have some of your Moondance coffee someday. And I won't tell Harry," he called.

I smiled at his earnest demeanor. "No, don't tell Harry."

"I won't!" I turned back again and waved in response. _So cute…sometimes he's just like a little boy._

It really had been good to see Peter again. He always made me feel better. And…something else too…I couldn't quite pinpoint it, but he made me feel something else too.


	5. SpiderMan? Who's that?

I always used to think superheroes were figments of imagination, characters you find in comic books and old movies. This is the twenty-first century; nobody is selfless enough to spend a lifetime fighting the same evil over and over again, just to save people who won't appreciate it. Heck, I'm surprised when _fictional_ characters manage to maintain their self-sacrifice. Even cops aren't perfect—plenty of them go dirty, or treat it just like a day job, and ignore it at night.

That's why I was so shocked when I first heard about Spider-Man. In our very own city, too! I hadn't seen him yet, and I didn't know what I'd think if I ever did. At the moment, I wasn't sure whether to actually believe it or not—it might have been some publicity stunt by the media, or a hoax or prank by some restless citizen. I mean, some human arachnid crawling around skyscrapers and spinning life-size webs? Sounds pretty fantastic to me. And I mean the made-up kind of fantastic, not the amazing kind. Nobody _does_ the hero thing anymore.

Or so I thought.

I changed my tune. Oh, boy, did I change it.

It was the OsCorp Industries' World Unity Festival when I had my first encounter with Spider-Man. And I never forgot that day. I was absolutely terrified.

That was the day Harry had planned to introduce me to his father. Norman Osborn was the richest self-made man in New York, and I was more than a little intimidated at the thought of meeting him. Harry had assured me he was going to love me, but his manner betrayed his own nervousness.

We were standing on the balcony of the huge old building on the edge of Times Square with various VIPs associated with OsCorp. I remember I was wearing a red Chinese silk dress, and Harry was wondering why I hadn't worn my black one. "It's just…I wanted to impress my father. He loves black."

_If Norman Osborn is going to like me less because I didn't wear black, I don't think I'm going to like this man much._

I tried to be reassuring. "Well, maybe he'll be impressed no matter what. You think I'm pretty," I reminded him.

"I think you're beautiful," he replied. He leaned forwards and slid his hand over my cheek. I turned away from his kiss; somehow, his affections made me exceedingly uncomfortable.

He squirmed for a moment as I tried to look casually down at the crowd. A moment later, he asked me to go inside with him to retrieve his drink. _Who drinks alcohol at a world unity festival?_ I wondered. Shrugging, I followed him as he made small talk with some of the members on the company's board of directors.

That was when the…_excitement_…started.

A dark speck, followed by a trail of curling black smoke, came from elsewhere in the city, somewhere amidst the tall buildings. At first, everyone was fascinated, thinking it was a new display of some kind. And it did look that way, for awhile. The figure weaved back and forth, creating a zig-zag with its tail of smoke. The crowd cheered as it approached, nearer and nearer…

Somehow, I knew something wasn't right. The figure swerved around, circling back to the other side of the square, then turning back in our direction.

"What the hell was that?" came Harry's voice beside me. _My sentiments exactly._

We both began backing away from the edge of the balcony as the odd-looking shape approached once more, again swerving to avoid the numerous balloons suspended above the square. I felt fear as I had never felt it before, even before the maniacal cackle broke through the engine noise the shape was making. As it got nearer to our perch on the balcony, I could see the general shape of a human, standing on some sort of wing-shaped thing. A shocked voice barely pierced my thoughts. "Oh my g…that's our glider!"

The figure on the glider threw a brightly lit, yellow-orange ball at the building, just under the balcony. I looked down, and almost before I knew what was happening, a massive explosion shook the ground out from under me. Literally.

The portion of the balcony I was standing on cracked and fell partway, leaving me hanging on to the carved railing for dear life. I could see the ground between the sections of wall, and it terrified me how far up I was, sitting on an unstable hunk of rock with nothing stopping my fall but my own weak grip. I felt my portion of the mutilated stone shiver with each renewed explosion, and I wondered when the shaking would stop. I screamed to Harry for help, but he was at the back of the balcony where it met the building, and couldn't reach me—or at least that's what I told myself at the time. Another explosion took out most of the support beam underneath the balcony, and my section became even more slanted, more precarious. I screamed.

The thing, the creature on the glider, came back a third time, cackling wildly—a laugh that sent chills through my body. "Out, am I?" it called menacingly, and threw another projectile, this time orange and green, at the board of directors, which was huddled now at the back of the balcony. I saw a blinding flash of light, a vague impression of skeletons where the board of directors had been, and then nothing. As if no one had ever been there.

I screamed again as the shattered balcony trembled. "Harry!"

"Mary Jane!" he called back, just before a large piece of stone architecture fell, knocking him out. Another yell escaped my lips, my heart raced and I couldn't get enough air into my lungs. In short, I was terrified.

At least, I thought I was. I never knew the meaning of fear, though, until I heard that voice. Dark, raspy, savage. Pure evil.

"Hello, my dear," it said. I turned to look and screamed again. A figure, clad in green armor, was atop the wing. But the mask…oh, the mask. It struck fear into my very soul, a fear I had never even imagined before. Angular, green, with a pointed head, large gaping mouth, and horrible yellow eyes. My screams intensified, ripping from my throat.

I was going to die, and that terrible face was going to be the last image imprinted on my brain.

xxxxx

The last thing I expected at that point was to see another figure fly through the air and knock the Jolly Green Giant off his glider and onto the square below. The green creature beginning to literally throw the policemen off him was less of a surprise, although his strength was remarkable. I had the perfect bird's eye view of the whole fight, and although I was terrified for my life, I could appreciate the notable scene below me. I felt the most amazing hope surge through me as Spider-Man approached the villain and attack; I felt crushing defeat when his punch was blocked, and he himself thrown halfway across the square and into a large metal pole. And again, that uncontrollable fear when the green man jumped back on his glider and began chasing Spider-Man. At this point, they had exited my line of vision, so the next several minutes were extremely nerve-wracking on my part.

Finally, I saw him, my hero, perched on one of the large animal-shaped cloth balloons. The balcony shuddered, and I screamed again. "Somebody please help me!" I cried hoarsely. My screams intensified as the balcony lowered even more, shaking violently and exposing me to the ground below. I almost fell, but managed to hang on. Just barely.

Spider-Man sprung into action. He was flying through the air towards me, and I knew I would finally be safe.

He was intercepted mid-air. Flown straight into a window by the green thing on its glider. I could see bits and pieces of the now broken glass flying down towards me, and bits of the furious struggle between hero and villain. Spider-Man was losing.

His face—or, at least, his mask—appeared suddenly above me. "Hold on!" he yelled to me. Relief surged through me, until I saw the figure hovering behind him. "Watch out!" I screamed at my would-be rescuer.

He turned and shot some kind of sticky stuff into the face of the creature, who responded by putting its hands to its face. The balcony cracked once more, nearly sending me hurtling to the ground eons below. As I looked up at the struggle, I saw Spider-Man hand-spring to the glider and shove his hand up the bottom, where I assumed the engine to be, causing sparks to fly, and the creature flew off, crying, "We'll meet again, Spider-Man!" The words sent shivers down my spine.

Finally, the balcony had had enough. The section I was sitting on cracked right through, and I plummeted to the earth below. Just before impact with the concrete, I felt something warm and solid next to me, and a springing sensation—like the way you feel bungee jumping, I would imagine, just when the bungee cord pulls you back up again—and all of a sudden, I was flying through the air. Or swinging, more accurately. In the arms of the newest hero in New York.

I couldn't open my eyes at first, still full of the terror of almost being killed on impact with that concrete. Spider-Man must have actually jumped off a building to save me…it blew my mind, especially when Harry, who professed to love me, had just stood there…I shook the thought out of my head. _There was nothing he could have done,_ I insisted to myself.

Breathless, relieved, I could hear the cheering crowd below us. But Spider-Man didn't take me to join them. We swung between the buildings for blocks and blocks, speeding through the air, feeling the wind. At first I was afraid, but my fear gave way to exhilaration and disbelief. I finally opened my eyes, automatically looking down in shock, and then turning my attention to the red spandex in front of me, covered in black web patterns.

You know those flying dreams everyone has? Well, this was a hundred times better. For one thing, this was _real._ I kept on thinking I was going to wake up, but I never did—just kept swinging through the air. And here I was, in the arms of a man who had just saved my life. A strong (and very muscular), capable man.

A man with a sense of humour. "Well, beats taking the subway," he joked after we had alighted on a roof garden, startling the couple on the carved bench.

I was still breathless, panting, and I wasn't sure what to say, even if I could have spoken. _Here is the man who pretty much single-handedly kicks bad guy butt and saves damsels in distress, and his voice…he's just a normal guy!_ I shook my head incredulously and laughed at his wisecrack. After all, what had I been expecting, an impossibly deep voice with a British accent?

I looked over at our audience, who looked rather shocked to find a red-and-blue Spandex-clad man and a redheaded woman in a silk dress 'drop in' on them. "Don't mind us," the man in front of me said to them, "she just needs to use the elevator." I laughed again.

He turned to leave. "Wait!" I cried, stopping him. "Who are you?"

He looked at me. "You know who I am."

My heart jumped. "I do?" I asked quietly.

"Your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man!" he said cheerfully, and leapt off the building. I watched him swing away, heard his cry of exhilaration.

"Wooohooo!"

I didn't actually make it back to my apartment for another hour. I just wandered the streets, wondering about that masked man. He had really managed to pique my curiosity. A superhero, in this day and age? When chivalry and the whole code of honour have pretty much died out? It blew my mind.

And just him, as a person…how did he come to be? And why haven't we heard of him sooner?

Spider-Man, I thought, was a walking—er, swinging—contradiction. He somehow had the maturity to take on the responsibility of protecting the entire city of New York, and yet he could crack silly jokes just like any of her friends. I shook my head, almost not believing it. He was incredible.


	6. Someone Saved My Life Tonight

"What do you mean, he's incredible?" Harry asked later that night.

I held the phone away from my ear to dampen the volume of his voice. "I don't know, he just is." I didn't feel like having this conversation with Harry right now. "I'm exhausted, Harry, can we do this later?"

"No—all right, wait. Stay there, I'm gonna come over."

"Harry, no, it's fine—" I really didn't want to face the third degree right now. Dealing with Harry took patience, I was realizing, and I didn't have the energy right now.

"No, I'm gonna come—"

"Harry, I AM FINE." So needy. I felt like I was always giving in this relationship, and never got anything in return but expensive presents—which don't do much good for a girl's emotional well-being.

"All right, fine. Fine, will you call me in the morning, and, and, we'll go and have breakfast, and…I wanna buy you something." See what I mean?

"Buy me something? Why?" Harry throwing his money around? Maybe he's more like his father than I thought.

"Because, I want to. It'll make you feel better." _Is money his answer to everything?_

I sighed. "Fine. I'll see you in the morning."

"Okay. And…what do you mean, incredible?"

"Harry!"

"All right, I'm sorry. Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs—" I hung up on him. _Oh, Harry. So overprotective, and yet—_he hadn't even tried to save me on that balcony.

_These headlines make me sick,_ I thought.

_Green Goblin and Spider-Man Terrorize City._

I shivered, remembering the green-armored man with the terrifying yellow eyes. _How can they say that, after poor Spider-Man got his butt kicked? He saved every single person the Goblin's antics endangered, and he could have died any number of times. There's no way it could have been choreographed. He put his life in danger to save us—to save _me.

_WANTED: Citizens Call for Wall-Crawler's Arrest_

_What citizens,_ I wondered. Nobody I knew. _He's just trying to protect the citizens of New York. Who in their right mind would want him off the street? He's what lets me sleep at night._

_Or keeps me awake._

_Acting lessons?_ I stormed out of the studio. Disappointed, even sad. Those were expected emotions when you go to an audition. If you don't get a part, you're disappointed. Rage is not a normal part of this picture.

At least I was able to prevent the tears.

"Hey!" I heard a familiar voice from behind me. "It's me again!"

_Peter!_ "Hey!"

"How was your audition?"

I started. "How'd you know?"

He smiled adorably. "The hotline. Your mom told my aunt, told me."

"So, you just came by?" _He would, too. Sweet thing like that is just like him._

"I was in the neighbourhood. Needed to see a friendly face." He looked mildly sheepish. "Took two buses and a cab to _get_ in the neighbourhood, but…" We both chuckled. "So how'd it go?"

I looked down, disappointed. "They said I needed acting lessons." I smiled slightly. "A _soap opera_ told me I needed acting lessons," I added in self-depracation. Both of us laughed.

"Well, let me buy you a cheeseburger. The sky's the limit, up to seven dollars and eighty-four cents."

I grinned. _How very—Peter. _"I'd like a cheeseburger." Then I remembered. "Oh, but I'm going out to dinner with Harry." Somehow thinking that a fancy dinner with Harry sounded far less exciting than a cheap burger with Peter, I said on impulse, "Come with us."

He looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Oh, no thanks." He paused. "How's it going with…never mind. That's none of my business."

"It's not?" _Why is it that I'm hoping he'll _make_ it his business? _"Why so interested?

"I'm not."

I didn't believe him. _If you asked, you're interested. _"You're not?"

"Well, why would I be?" He was trying so hard to be casual. And nobody else probably would have noticed the difference. But I did.

"I don't know. Why would you be?" _Come on, whatever you're thinking, just _say_ it! _ I was dying to know what was going on in that brilliant head of his.

"I, ah…That's a…I don't know." He was extremely uncomfortable now, and I knew it couldn't be just embarrassment for having brought it up.

I wasn't really sure what to say. "Sorry you won't come with us." I paused to look into his eyes one more time, reluctant for the encounter to be over. "I'd better run, tiger," I said, turning away and striding in the direction of the restaurant where I was supposed to meet Harry. _Tiger? Where on earth did that come from? It's not even like he's the sporty type…and yet it fits, somehow._

_Tiger._

xxxxx

I strode away as the rain started. Now, don't get me wrong, I love rain. But going to dinner with Harry sort of requires hair that looks nicely done, and makeup that isn't running down my face. So I tried to rush through the streets on my way to the restaurant, hoping to avoid too much water.

And then it happened. For the second time in as many weeks, my life was in danger.

As I entered a dark street (should have known better, yeah, but I was in a hurry), I passed a few guys in dark coats and scrubby facial hair.

"Hey, check it out, man!" I heard from behind me. Trying to ignore them, I continued, quickening my stride.

"Come on, man," came another voice. _They're probably just going to—_

A voice cut through my self-reassurances. "Hey, where you going, baby? Come on!" I looked back and saw the four men that had begun following me through the street. _Oh, not now,_ I thought. I've dealt with muggers before, but usually lone ones, the homeless guys that don't even stand a chance.

I walked even faster through the wet street, then paused to look back. A frightening laugh met my ears, and I turned to run. The man kept laughing as he and his friends chased me through the darkened street, finally cornering me. Now, these were not your average muggers. They didn't just want my purse.

The guy to my left began to make fake smooching sounds, loud and disgusting. My heart raced. One of the guys on my right started barking like a dog, which confused me more than anything. _Maybe he's crazy?_ Remembering the Goblin's maniacal laugh, I decided craziness was definitely something to cause worry.

I turned back around, looking for an escape route. One of the guys grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.

And that's all it takes for Mary-Jane Watson to lose her temper.

"GET OFF ME!" I screamed, swinging my large shoulder bag around so it hit him square in the stomach. I turned and kicked the kissy-faced guy, _hard,_ right where he deserved it. But there were still two guys full strength, and a third recovering quickly. I struggled against their grip, screaming for all I was worth—hey, you never know who's listening. I was hoping there would be a cop around, or something.

The guy I had whacked with my purse pulled a switchblade, clicking it open. I yelled again, tried to pull free from the men holding me. I was held against the wall by three of them, and the fourth was facing me with a knife. I screamed.

Suddenly, I heard another sound—vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place it. not something you hear every day. A thwhipping sort of sound. I felt the weight of my attackers lift, and I turned, stunned, to see what had happened.

Long strings had somehow attached themselves to the criminals and were dragging them across the street, to a figure I barely recognized.

_Spider-Man?_ I wondered, shocked. But—he looked different, somehow.

From his perch on the side of a building, he back-flipped into their midst. I gasped as they attacked him. But he was more than able to take care of himself. I guess that comes from being accustomed to fighting hoodlums and supervillains every day. You get used to it.

He threw the first guy who rushed him. The would-be attacker just sprawled on the ground. I felt so hopeful then. The second guy approached Spider-Man with a low-placed football tackle. Spider-Man simply kicked him in the stomach before somersaulting over the attacker's shoulder to face a third man. As two more rushed him from behind, he punched both in the face. While they were still behind him. _How does he do that? _I wondered.

Just then, Spider-Man moved under a streetlight. I gasped. _He's not wearing his mask!_ I wondered if it had been torn to bits in an earlier fight, or if he had simply forgotten to put it on…I strained to see his face, but he was whirling around in a flurry of fists, so I didn't see much.

I lost count of which guy was which after that, but four against one is not nearly a fair enough fight. Spider-Man was kicking their butts.

_Literally_, I thought as one of them went flying past me into a window. Another followed shortly after, nailing the window on the other side of me. I had to duck to avoid him. Spider-Man held the last guy out in front of him, as if to throw him against one of those brick walls, but he just let him drop to the ground.

His bare face turned to look at me as I slowly approached him, and he just stood there for a split second before turning agilely and rushing into the alley behind him.

I followed him. "Wait!" I wasn't about to let him get away this time. But it was too late. I walked into the alley and he was gone. The disappointment was almost too much to bear.

_I didn't even get to thank him._

I turned back onto the street to go meet Harry, disheartened. Well, first I needed to find my coat and my purse, which I had lost in the struggle. I was soaked to the skin.

Suddenly, I found myself face to face with a familiar mask.

"You have a knack for getting in trouble." I turned to face the voice and jumped. Spider-Man was suspended from the building, upside-down, looking straight at me. Well, from what I could tell. Those eyepieces don't really give much away.

"You have a knack for saving my life," I replied. I couldn't resist teasing, "I think I have a superhero stalker."

"I was in the neighbourhood."

_Where have I heard that before?_ I could have sworn—I dismissed that thought. "You are—amazing."

He shook his head slightly. "Some people don't think so," came his voice, almost—sad?

"But you are," I said softly, not leaving any room for argument. _Someone's gotta believe in him; it doesn't matter what the papers say, or what anyone in the city says—he _is_ amazing._

"Nice to have a fan," came the rueful voice. I still couldn't get over how normal he sounded. Just your average guy. Except when he was saving your life. _Wow._

"Do I get to say thank you this time?" I slowly reached towards his neck, guessing at where the seam for his mask might be.

"Wait—" he said, but cut himself off. I guess he trusted me. (Now I know better…he really wanted me to know, somehow…but more on that later.)

I pulled the stretchy material down to just under his nose (remember, he's facing me, but he's upside-down…mmm…) and put my hands on the sides of his face, and kissed him.

Nothing had ever come close before, or has since, I think, to that moment. It was as if I had been waiting for that moment for all of my life…I can't even begin to describe the exhilaration, the warm tingles it sent through to my toes…that feeling of _rightness_, for whatever reason. And then he began to kiss me back.

Spider-Man is a really good kisser.


	7. The Odd Osborn Family

Author's Note: Thanks so much to htbthomas for being my first reviewer! And again, I disclaim any right to characters owned by whoever it is that owns Spider-Man...situations from the movie are also owned by someone else. Any scenes that aren't from the movie are mine, and I may or may not introduce new characters.

xxxxx

I had felt so—indescribably conflicted once he had swung away that night. Elated, breathless, still tingling…and yet, once he had gone, feeling alone without his presence.

I had smiled up into the rain, watching him go long after he was out of sight.

And then I remembered. _Harry!_ I really didn't want to spend time with the mundane existence that was Harry. But, we did have plans, so I went and met him at the restaurant, soaked as I was. He was really worried about me, he said. I had walked in, late and drenched, and he asked if I was all right. Still on a high, I smiled and said I was fine.

"How did your audition go?"

_Audition? Oh, right._ I had almost forgotten. "They didn't want me. Which was fine, because it's just a soap opera. Nobody worth impressing watches those anyway." Somehow, Peter's perspective on life was rubbing off on me. Always positive.

And that was all Harry said about me all night. Every word that came out of his mouth was about himself, his father, or both. By the end of the meal, I swore that one more word about the great Norman Osborn would make me throw up.

It amazes me how quickly one's mood can change, depending on one's company.

Thanksgiving was always a great time of year when Aunt May was involved. She had been inviting my family over for dinner every year since we moved next door to her. This year, we were celebrating in Harry and Peter's new apartment, and Harry's father and I were finally going to meet. Harry was incredibly nervous about it, and I couldn't imagine why. I mean, his father wasn't some kind of monster, and surely he would be supportive no matter who Harry brought home.

Apparently I was wrong, on both counts.

"MJ, will you stop goofing around?" Harry's annoyed voice broke through my thoughts.

"Harry, relax." I hurried to put the casserole to the table, annoyed at him.

"He's here," Harry said as he heard the elevator arrive and the buzzer ring.

"Are you ready?" Aunt May asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied for both of us.

I smoothed my hair and the skirt of my dress (which, incidentally, was black this time).

"Ah, Aunt May," Norman sighed as she opened the door, "I'm sorry I'm late. Work was murder." (Looking back, I realize what he really meant…it gives me shivers just thinking about it.) "I picked up a fruitcake," he continued, presenting Aunt May with a wrapped bakery box.

She smiled in a motherly manner. "Thank you, Mr. Osborn. We're so glad you could come." I was madly rearranging Harry's suit jacket and tie, trying to make them lie straight. We both turned to face his father.

"And who is this lovely young lady?" he asked. I put on my friendliest smile.

"MJ, I'd like you to meet my father, Norman Osborn. Dad, this is Mary Jane Watson."

"Hi," I said, trying to be friendly.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you," he said.

"Happy Thanksgiving, sir," I said. _See, Harry? That wasn't so bad!_

"Now, where is Peter?" Aunt May's voice cut in. "He'd better have remembered that cranberry sauce."

THUMP. We all turned to look upwards for the source of the noise.

"Oh, that's weird," Harry said. "I didn't know he was here." The sound had come from Peter's room, apparently.

Norman Osborn's eyes were appraising me critically. I began to get very uncomfortable.

Aunt May began up the stairs. "Peter?" she called. "Peter, is that you?" We followed her into his room.

We were the only ones in the room. "How strange," Aunt May said. "There's nobody here."

"Bit of a slob, isn't he?" Norman said disparagingly as I turned to go back downstairs.

Aunt May defended him. "All brilliant men are."

We all went back downstairs again. I wondered what took Norman so long up there, but didn't dare ask. He had started to make me very nervous.

Just then the door to the apartment opened. "Hey, everyone!" came a sheepish voice.

"Oh, Peter!" Aunt May greeted. Everyone stood and greeted him. I waved shyly.

"Sorry I'm late; it's a jungle out there," he told us, then quipped, "Had to beat an old lady with a stick to get these cranberries!"

Everyone laughed. _Who knew he could be so funny? That offbeat sense of humour…sounds familiar, somehow, but why?_

"Oh, Peter," Aunt May chided him, kissing him on the cheek in greeting. "Thank you, dear," she said, accepting the can from him. "Now then," she said, taking charge, "Everybody sit down, and we can say grace."

Norman shook Peter's hand as they found seats at the table. Across from me, Peter smiled shyly, and I looked back, feeling shy as well, although I couldn't figure why.

Aunt May, ever the mother, placed the turkey on the table. "Oh, it looks delicious!" I praised.

Norman reached his fingers into the casserole dish, apparently hoping for a taste. "Norman!" Aunt May scolded, slapping his hand as she would a misbehaving child. Norman's head snapped up, and I saw something in his eyes that chilled me to the bone more than that night in the rain without my coat had. "Will you do the honours?" She handed him the carving knife, which he proceeded to sharpen, almost menacingly, I thought.

"Why, Peter!" Aunt May exclaimed. "You're bleeding!" We all looked, and surely, there was a red streak on the forearm of his shirtsleeve.

"Oh, uh, yeah," he stammered, "I stepped off a curb and got clipped by one of those bike messengers." He seemed nervous, somehow.

"Well, let me see!" his aunt demanded, rolling up the sleeve. "Oh, my goodness! Oh, that looks awful!"

"No, it's nothing," Peter insisted.

She shook her head. "I'll get the first-aid kit, and then we'll say grace." She strode in the direction of the kitchen, continuing, "This is the boys' first Thanksgiving in this apartment, and we are going to do things properly."

Norman Osborn had a certain glint in his eyes, one I couldn't quite place. He pointed the knife in Peter's direction. "H-how did you say that happened?" He didn't take his eyes off Peter's cut. Confused and worried, I looked back and forth between them. _What is going on here?_

Peter looked a bit bewildered, too. "Bike messenger. Knocked me down."

Norman looked shaken, and dropped the knife, pushing his chair back. "Uh…if you'll excuse me, I've got to be going." It smelled of lame excuse.

"Why?" Harry asked indignantly.

As he pulled his coat on hastily, Norman continued, sounding shaken (although I couldn't begin to guess why), "Something…has come to my attention."

"Are you all right?" Harry asked.

"I'm fine, just fine." I looked at Peter inquiringly. He looked back and raised an eyebrow, shrugging slightly. "Thank you, Mrs. Parker, everyone. Enjoy the fruitcake." And with that he rushed out the door.

"Dad—Dad!" Harry called, hurrying after him. "What are you doing?" he asked angrily, out in the corridor. "I planned this whole thing so you could meet MJ, and now you have to leave?"

"I gotta go," Norman said. We could hear their conversation clearly from inside.

"Dad, this girl is important to me!"

"Harry, please," his father said dismissively. "Look at her!" I sucked in a breath. "You think a woman like that is sniffing around because she likes your personality?" I looked up at Peter through my lashes. I couldn't completely meet his eyes, but I saw the compassion in them. As usual, he looked worse than I did about the whole thing.

"What are you saying?" I heard Harry's voice ask.

"Your mother was beautiful, too. They're all beautiful, until they're after your trust fund like a pack of ravening wolves!" He was practically growling by this point. I blushed at the implications.

(And if he saw how I ended up, well, he'd have to know that wasn't true.)

"You're wrong about her, Dad," Harry said quietly, without much conviction.

Norman took on a know-it-all tone. "A word to the not-so-wise about your little _girlfriend_:" he said menacingly, "Do what you need to with her, then broom her—fast."

I lowered my head, fighting back the tears, as the elevator screen slammed shut. Peter sighed, squirming uncomfortably on my behalf.

Then something occurred to me. _Where have I heard that raspy, angered voice before?_ He hadn't sounded that way until he was muffled by the closed door, and angry…it sounded so familiar. _Dammit, why does it sound so familiar?_

Harry walked back in. "Thanks for sticking up for me, Harry," I said sarcastically.

"You heard?" he asked as I grabbed my coat.

"Everyone heard that creep!"

Harry looked affronted. "That 'creep' is my father! Alright? If I'm lucky, I'll become half of what he is." _If you're lucky,_ I thought angrily, _you won't be anything like him._ (And I didn't know how true that would turn out to be.) "So just keep your mouth shut about stuff you don't understand!"

_Excuse me. What _I_ don't understand? Why is it, Harry, that you can defend your frightening, overbearing father to me, but you can't defend me, your insecure, shy girlfriend to your father? I understand perfectly, Harry. It's over. It's just too bad I can't actually tell you that right now, because I might rip your head off._

"Harry Osborn!" Aunt May rebuked, indignant on my behalf.

"I'm sorry, Aunt May," I said sadly as I left. Peter gazed after me, just as angry as his aunt.

_Why is it that the Parkers are like my only family? Stick up for me through boyfriend troubles, comfort me whenever I have problems, and the only decent role model I ever had was Ben Parker…too bad I can't just adopt them._

_Mary-Jane Parker. Doesn't sound too bad._


	8. The Trouble With Men

As soon as I heard about Aunt May's heart attack, I rushed to the hospital, more concerned than if it had been one of my own family. Not surprisingly, Peter was there. "Will she be okay?" I asked him.

"She's gonna be fine," he replied assuringly. "She's been sleeping all day." I walked past him towards the bed. _Aunt May looks so frail…_ I know it sounds funny, but even with my recent encounters with danger, this was the first moment I had felt such a deep-seated fear.

"Thanks for coming," Peter said gratefully.

"Of course," I replied. I couldn't just leave them there—she was all Peter had. Heck, she was all I had.

"How are you?" he asked, concerned, as usual, more for me than his own troubles. "I mean, you okay about the other night?"

I nodded, touched by his worry. "Yeah, I'm fine." It was my turn to think about someone else before myself. "I just felt bad about leaving Aunt May."

"Have you talked to Harry?" Peter asked, eyebrows raised. I knew there was more to that question, more that I knew he would never actually ask.

I sighed at the thought of Harry. "He called me." I made my way to one of the chairs in the hospital room. "I haven't called him back." I didn't want to remember the hurt he had caused me, or the indignities his father had heaped on me. I still couldn't believe Harry hadn't stuck up for me. Peter would have—

_Never mind what Peter would have done!_ I scolded my errant thoughts. _I don't need to be constantly comparing the men in my life. I'll never get anywhere that way._ Then I remembered a time when someone _had_ defended me—at the risk of his own safety, even his own life—and the thanks I had given him in return…I still got chills just thinking about him.

_Spider-Man._ The first truly dependable man in my life. _The only one, really,_ I thought. Harry's kisses had never made me react the way I had that night in the rain. Actually, every time Harry tried to kiss me, I did my best to fend it off. It seemed wrong, somehow. And Flash had never been that exciting for me. He had been my security blanket, my defense against geekdom in school. And both of them stood to gain by a relationship with me: Flash got respect from his buds for 'being' with me, and envy, I suppose, from all the bragging he did about his 'exploits,' none of which were true—at least not the ones involving me—and Harry, well, I suppose he wanted to impress his father and friends, being with a pretty girl like me (I'm not stuck up, I promise, I know I'm pretty decent-looking if Emma Rose wants me to model for them). And I'm sure invoking Peter's envy was something he relished.

But Spider-Man? He's a different story entirely. He seemed almost…reluctant to get involved. I mean, he has a whole city to protect. How would he have time for a girl like me? And yet…the feelings I discovered that wet night can't be denied…

"The fact is," I continued, "I'm in love with somebody else."

"You are?" Peter asked, too stoically.

"At least, I _think_ I am." Glancing over again at Aunt May's still form, I brushed my confusion away, sighing. "It's not the right time to talk about it."

"No, no," Peter interjected curiously, "Go on." He looked as if he was about to die of curiosity. "Would I know his name, this guy?"

I laughed nervously, blushing furiously. "You'll think I'm a stupid little girl with a crush." Peter was the last person I needed to be dumping my troubles on, but his demeanor kept saying, 'Dump away.' He's just so darn understanding that I can't help myself sometimes.

"Trust me," were his simple words.

"It's funny," I reflected, not sure where to even begin. Gathering my courage and my wits, I barreled on. "He's saved my life twice, and I've never even seen his face," I told him, unsure as to why I was telling him.

Peter smiled knowingly, moving to sit. "Oh. Him," he said, half laughing, half something I couldn't quite recognize.

I had to join his chuckling. "You're laughing at me!" I scolded with mock indignance.

"No, no, I understand," he continued, still laughing as I sat facing him. "He is extremely cool." An odd look of mixed pleasure and regret crossed his face, and I couldn't quite figure out why.

But my curiosity barreled on without the consent of my intuition. "But do you think it's true—all the terrible things they say about him?" Oddly, although I'd been telling Peter just about everything, we hadn't ever talked about Spider-Man before this. And I couldn't wait to hear what he thought.

"No. Not Spider-Man." He shook his head emphatically. "Not a chance in the world." He looked earnestly at me. "I…know him a little bit." I was thrilled and surprised at this. _Peter Parker knows Spider-Man? Even a little bit is a lot for the city's elusive masked hero._ "I'm sort of his…unofficial photographer."

"Has he mentioned me?" I asked eagerly. _Oh, great. Now I'm acting like it's eighth grade all over again, asking my friends if my crush is talking about me, if he's staring at me right now…MJ, get a grip of yourself!_

"Yeah," Peter replied.

My curiosity got the better of my sense of pride. "What'd he say?"

He looked a bit confused, and slid his piercing blue eyes to the right as he replied haltingly, "Uh, I said…He, he…he asked me…what I thought about you." He looked back at me.

I couldn't tear my eyes from his. "And what did you say?"

Looking back on this conversation makes me laugh. I can't believe Peter actually said something like that! I mean, really. I don't think I'll ever understand what goes on in his head…

"Uh…I said…'Spider-Man,' I said, 'the great thing about MJ is…'"

I looked at Peter encouragingly. I didn't notice until days later that Peter hadn't really told me what Spider-Man had said, but what he, Peter, had told Spider-Man. And now, well, I know better. And I cannot believe I actually had this conversation with him. Poor guy must have been so confused.

Peter continued, " 'the great thing about MJ is…when you're looking in her eyes…and she's looking back in yours…'" (which is exactly what we were doing at that moment) " '…everything feels…not quite normal.'" I was surprised at Peter's open honesty, and to this day believe that that was the closest he had ever come yet to actually telling me how he felt. " 'Because you feel,'" he continued softly, " 'stronger—and weaker, at the same time. You feel excited, and at the same time, terrified.'" I almost couldn't meet his gaze anymore; it was far too intense, more intense than I had ever seen in Peter Parker's face. " 'The truth is, you—you don't know _what_ you feel…except you know what kind of man you want to be. It's as if you've reached the unreachable…'" I could feel the tears well up in my eyes, although I was too stubborn at the time to realize why. " 'And you weren't ready for it.'"

"You—you said that?" I breathed. I was shocked to hear something like this from Peter. He had always been the shy one, rarely giving more than monosyllabic answers to anything but a homework question, and here he was, more eloquent than…well, anyone I'd ever spoken to in person. His honesty was just heartbreaking…

"Well…something like that." He nodded, lowering his gaze in what I thought to be embarrassment, and now suppose was just sheer discomfort over the whole situation.

I reached for his limp hand, hoping to comfort him. I knew he had sort of laid himself bare, and didn't want him to shy away again…little did I realize at that point how sick I was of him shying away.

At the soft contact between our hands, he looked back up at me, with what looked like sadness and hope in his eyes. I smiled and squeezed his hand. _Aunt May will be all right. You'll see,_ I promised mentally.

The door opened, revealing the last person I wanted to see right then. Well, actually, I suppose it could have been much worse—it could have been Norman Osborn, or even the Green Goblin…wait a sec…never mind. But it wasn't him, it was Harry.

He walked in and saw us sitting there, facing each other, hand in hand. And the most terrible expression came on his face—he was so disheartened, stunned, knowing he had ultimately lost, once again, to his best friend—that Peter and I quickly dropped our hands. But it was too late.

"Hey," Peter said, vainly trying to break the awkward silence. I looked down at my hands, avoiding Harry's gaze. I felt sorry for him, but really, he deserved it. I didn't want to feel too bad for dumping him, not after the way he treated me.

I just don't seem to have the best luck with guys, you know?

First, my father, and—well, I've already said what he's like. Flash was my first real boyfriend, and he wasn't much of a catch. Harry was still about nine years old, emotionally dependent on his father's acceptance, which never came. And there was another too, one that seemed to have a particular interest in me…


	9. The Hero's Choice

As I woke up groggily, I was bewildered by the sounds around me, the breeze I felt across my face. I sat up gradually in the darkness, wondering why my surroundings didn't look familiar. I stood up and took a step backward, only to bump into a ledge of some sort with my foot. My arms flailed wildly, and I barely managed to right myself. I turned and looked where my foot had hit…

Far below me, vehicles were speeding along a roadway, and below them, water. I was standing on an upper part of the structure of the Queensboro Bridge.

As the wind whipped around me, my heart began to race. _What on earth am I doing up here?_

I rushed to the end of the thing I was on and looked for any way down from there. Nothing remotely resembling a ladder or climbable surface. _I had to get up here somehow!_ The fear of heights I had thought long outgrown was beginning to make itself known again. I pulled my eyes away from the water below and gasped.

The Green Goblin.

I ducked as he flew by on his glider, severing one of the beams supporting my bridge over the bridge before making his way along the cable used by the gondolas.

_Oh, no. I don't know what he's going to do, but I'm pretty sure it's not going to be good. But why bring _me_ up here?_ I was baffled by his interest in me, although I assumed it _was _him that had brought me here.

The cold wind was nothing compared to the chills that shivered down my spine when the familiar loud, raspy voice of the Goblin began to sing.

"_The itsy-bitsy spider ran up the water spout…"_ He aimed his glider at something. _"Down came the Goblin, and took the spider out!" _He laughed triumphantly as he caused a massive explosion near the base of the bridge. Flames engulfed the bridge, and I could hear car horns and breaking glass. Heat now suffused the wind that had previously made me shiver.

I saw the gondola cable break, and the car plummet towards the troubled water below. The Goblin grabbed the flailing cable in his metal gauntlet…_why?_ I wondered…and pointed his glider back in my direction.

Before I knew what was happening, the Green Goblin was holding me by the neck in one hand and the cable in the other.

My heart leapt as I saw a familiar figure speeding through the air towards us, and despite my precarious situation, I knew I was safe. I continued to struggle, hoping the Goblin would let go of me so that Spider-Man could catch me. Or I could fall to the water below, which was a better option than being choked by cold green metal.

"Spider-Man!" came the terrible voice beside me. "This is why only fools are heroes." He shook me, and I screamed. "Because you never know when some lunatic will come along with a sadistic choice: let die the woman you love—" He looked at me, and in the darkness, the luminescent yellow eyes were more terrifying than ever before— "or suffer the little children." He shook the cable held firmly in his other hand. I could hear the screams of the kids, and I joined their sounded protest.

"Make your choice, Spider-Man…and see how a hero is rewarded!" His words struck fear into my heart.

"Don't do it, Goblin!" The hero's voice barely carried over the wind, but I sensed the hint of desperation in his tone. That alone scared me more than the Goblin ever had. _Spider-Man, afraid?_ I knew I was really in trouble then.

"We are who we choose to be," the Goblin rasped. "Now, choose!" As I fell, and I saw the gondola car do the same, two things occurred to me: one was that I hoped those kids wouldn't waste their lives, and the other surprised me. _I don't want to die…I'd never see Peter's face again…_

Then something warm and solid smacked into me, and instead of speeding downwards, I was pulled in a vast arc along the bridge. I was shocked to see the red spandex-clad arm around my waist.

_He couldn't have chosen me, over all those kids—there are so many of them, with their whole lives ahead of them, and there's just one little old Mary Jane Watson, failed actress and lonely pretender._

_He made the wrong choice._

Then I saw that we were speeding in the direction of the cable that was attached to the falling car. Spider-Man grabbed it out of the air, and I screamed, realizing that that was the hand he had been using to hold his webs. But I held on tightly, and somehow, miraculously, he managed to use the hand holding me to shoot a web up to the underside of the bridge. I felt the now-familiar bungee-cord spring as the web held, although my grip was not very strong, and I nearly fell.

I realized that falling here would be far more painful than falling from where the Goblin dropped me. There, it would have been into freezing water, death on impact. Here, I would probably hit the gondola, roll off the edge and then into freezing cold water.

Part of the webbing attached to the bridge pulled free, and we fell lower. I screamed again, voice almost hoarse by this point.

Nothing like death staring you in the face to make you think.

Like why Peter's name was the one that popped into my head as my death wish, of sorts. I mean, I had a thing for Spider-Man, maybe just a silly crush, but…Peter? Maybe he meant more to me than I ever imagined.

Or, maybe I was just so accustomed to his constant encouragement that I didn't know how to do without it…

_No, I'm pretty sure you don't think of just before you _die_, just because they believe in you._

The sound of the Goblin's glider broke into my thoughts. "He's coming back!" I screamed at my rescuer.

"Listen," Spider-Man said urgently. "I need you to climb down."

By this point, I was completely panicking. "I can't!"

"Yes, you can!" His voice was rather rough from the strain he must have been under, but I still heard the underlying familiarity of his tone, and the belief in me that he obviously had.

More of the webbing snapped off the bridge.

"MJ! You can do it—you _have to_."

I looked into his face—or, rather, his mask—and knew he was right.

"Trust me."

_I do, Spider-Man. I do trust you._

"Hold on tight—and go quickly!" He seemed to know what was coming, and, I presume, wanted me safe before it happened.

I carefully let myself down, and tried to climb down the cable like we had the rope in phys. ed. class. Except this was twisted metal wires, rather than softer cloth fibre. Rope burn didn't even begin to describe the pain, and I was only holding up my own weight. Spider-Man must have been in agony…

I forced myself to keep going. _Thinking about that is not going to get you anywhere right now, Mary Jane Watson. You need to get down to that car, so he doesn't have so much to worry about._

"Hurry!" he urged. He must have seen the Goblin approaching, but I was oblivious in my panicked state. I cringe every time I remember this whole scene; the amount of screaming I did disgusts me.

"I cant…I can't do it!" I cried.

The Goblin's approach was near now. "Hang on, Mary Jane!" he shouted hoarsely, knowing what was coming.

The Goblin came and delivered a furious blow to Spider-Man's head. How he managed to hold us at all I can't even begin to imagine. We began swaying furiously, and I nearly flew off the cable. I was only holding on by one hand a second later, and had to use all of my determination to grab on to the cable once more.

And then came the Goblin again.

I looked up in horror as Spider-Man hurtled through the air, arcing until he was upside-down. We plummeted to the water.

Suddenly our descent jerked to a halt, and I completely lost my grip on the painful cable. I barely managed to grab a rail around the roof of the gondola, but my hand slipped and, for about the seventh time that night, nearly fell to my death.

I heard the Goblin's chilling, thundering voice cut through the night. "It's time to die!" He sped toward Spider-Man, and terror struck me through the heart.

Suddenly I heard new voices added to the conglomeration of screams and maniacal threats. Men's voices, coming from the deck of the bridge. I looked up. I couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but then I saw flying debris of some kind colliding with the Goblin, and could only assume that the occupants of the bridge were hurling them.

_What a show of support for Spider-Man!_ I had to feel sorry for the guy; he was masked, so no one could thank him properly for saving them, and the newspapers—well, really, the _Daily Bugle_—just wouldn't let him be. And now, here were some random citizens, saving Spider-Man. I almost smiled until I remembered where I was.

While the Green Goblin was distracted, Spider-Man let the cable slide slowly through his hands to the barge below that had lined itself up to catch us. I later saw the blood and fabric fibres streaking much of it, and wondered how he could have stood the pain.

As the gondola car hit the deck of the barge, cheers erupted from the car and the barge, and I thought I heard some from the bridge above as well. But my thoughts weren't on our safety. I was looking up at the man who so bravely rescued us. And the thing that was intent on destroying him.

"Spider-Man, watch out!" I screamed, seeing the Goblin's attack. Spider-Man was still hanging from his web line, probably weakened greatly from his efforts to save us. I gasped as the Goblin threw a rope around Spider-Man and pulled him away to a location unknown to us, presumably to finish him off.

The Goblin's words from the bridge echoed through my head. _"Make your choice, Spider-Man…and see how a hero is rewarded!"_

Well, he had made his choice. Instead of just saving me, or saving the kids, he saved all of us. Barely.

He chose to save all of us, at the expense of himself. He was gone now, likely to die in the ensuing fight with his arch-enemy, and all because he chose to save us.

He truly had made the hero's choice.


End file.
